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Interview with a Winged Hero
Chapter Two
What We Tell Ourselves
— Lying is not only saying what isn't true. It is also, in fact especially, saying more than is true and, in the case of the human heart, saying more than one feels. We all do it, every day, to make life simpler.
Albert Camus
Present day — Hawks Hero Agency
"Boss, there's been a request from—whoa."
One of Hawks' sidekicks ducked out of the way of the feathers as they traversed the space of said hero's office. They carried pieces of paper with them—documents unearthed after hours and hours of searching through old boxes. Hundreds of documents flew in the air propelled by downy red feathers that swayed back and forth, some waiting patiently airborne while others rushed when beckoned by their owner.
Lounging around midair was Hawks, his back bear of his signature jacket, visors pulled back against his head and earphones resting leisurely around his neck. The feathers he called towards him silently returned with the documents in hand but at mere glance he dismissed them realizing immediately that they weren't what he was looking for. A distinct frown was on his face and his eyes were scrunched in concentration as he skimmed through each individual document only to eventually toss it aside.
The sidekick that entered to almost get a mouthful of feathers and papers cleared his throat a couple of times before resorting to calling out loudly to his boss when there wasn't an answer.
"Boss?"
Red wings twitched at the sudden call a fraction of a second before he turned down to them. His usual smile came back briefly before he lowered himself onto the ground with a nonchalant wave. Even down there though the barrage of documents brought by his feathers continued, his attention divided between the two.
"What's up?" Hawks asked between sparing glances.
"Oh, uh—there's been a request for a team-up from the Lunar Agency."
"From jackrabbit?" Despite making the correct assumption, he refused to give more than a millisecond of attention to his sidekick. "What about?"
"She didn't specify when she put in the request," they began, "only that it was an important case and that she'd get in contact with you later…" Letting it trail off, his sidekick finally let out a long sigh before turning back to Hawks. "You looking for something, Boss?"
"And failing miserably!" His enthusiasm piqued anew now that someone finally inquired about his change in attitude. Without a warning, he shot up into the air again to comb through the countless papers. "I thought for sure I'd have it at home but when I didn't find it, I could only think it'd be somewhere in the office. Do you know where else old documents of mine could be here?"
"Have you asked the others?"
"They gave me these saying it could be here. So far, nothing."
"What about the warehouse? Not all the boxes got taken out when we moved offices a couple of years ago."
"I wouldn't leave something so important in a box that was gonna get lost at a warehouse."
"Mm, my last bet would be Ohno-san then." Almost instantly all feathers stopped in their tracks when Hawks' head shot up to attention at the mention of that name. "Though I'm guessing she was the first one you asked, right?"
At first there was nothing but silence.
Then, suddenly, a gust of wind rushed past them the moment Hawks burst out through his open window to rush down the couple of floors to reach a window he knew very well. As always the blinds were shut tight so that little to no sunlight could go through, but savvy as he was about the person inhabiting the office, Hawks tapped the glass pane tirelessly until the blinds opened. A rather disgruntled expression marred the face of a lady that, by the looks of things, was on the decline in years. Salt and pepper hair was wound tightly into a bun on the top of her head and small wrinkles came to the side of her eyes and around her nose and lips as a small frown curved them downward.
Stern as could be, dark charcoal eyes scowled at him the instant the blinds opened. Hawks smiled cheekily back with a wave of his hand as he hovered outside the window. Seeing no other way to get rid of him, the old lady opened the window but only a crack though. She knew that if she gave him an inch, he'd take the full mile. Surprisingly, he didn't take as much advantage as she thought at first, merely prying his fingers through to get the window opened just a tiny bit more before starting.
"How is the most beautiful granny in the whole wide world doing today?"
"Drop the theatrics, Takami-kun. Why are you interrupting my work so early?"
Hawks chuckled for a slight moment at the directness the old lady took with him. Surely after years of being his PR manager—one provided to him by the Hero Public Safety Commission Office no less—it was something to be immune to. Didn't make it any less amusing however.
"Right." Hawks cleared his throat before turning off the goofy side of himself for a slight moment. "I've been looking for something the whole of today and, well, the fact that I'm here now might tell you a little of how that search has been going." But that silly side of him could only keep its little paws out of the way for the length of that sentence before a pout came to his lips. "Would ya mind using that Quirk of yours and telling me where I can find it, pretty please?"
"No."
"Junko-san, please," he begged slightly, pushing his arms through the slit of the open window now. "I've been searching for this damn paper all night!"
"I am 100% certain that there are far more important matters for you to attend to than some lost newspaper clipping."
"Aha!"
Hawks practically pushed himself inside, something that surprised her somewhat. But it wasn't a hard mystery to figure out after she found one of his feathers having opened the window fully from the inside. Small enough feathers that he'd snuck in beneath the slit of her door when she wasn't paying attention. Without missing a beat, Ohno Junko stepped back to allow him enough room to freely stumble onto the floor of her office in a heap of red feathers. Hawks recovered quickly enough, enthused as he was with Junko's words.
"So you do know what I'm looking for!"
Junko sighed begrudgingly and rubbed the bridge of her nose with her fingers. "The secretaries warned me about your ruckus. I simply deduced the rest."
"That's one hell of a deduction," he added as he got comfortable being cross-legged on her floor. "My guess is that you knew I'd be searching for it. Which brings me to think that I might be right after all about what I was thinking."
"Takami-kun, for as hard as it is for you to believe, you are not difficult to read."
"I'd beg to differ."
"Especially," Junko reiterated not liking the interruption, "when it's about something that's caught your attention. Much like the young lady from your 3pm appointment yesterday did."
The playfulness that he'd been carrying himself with suddenly disappeared and though not turning fully serious, Hawks remained solemnly quiet, taking in what she said as he stood from her office floor.
"Y'know, eavesdropping isn't a good habit, Junko-san."
Hearing that, Junko humphed indignantly with one hand tapping on the top of her mahogany desk. "I'm your private relations manager—I have been since you graduated and formed your agency. You should know by now that your business is my own, especially when it concerns any reporters and tabloids."
"Those girls didn't look half bad," he mildly commented. Remembering the reason he was there, he waved the comment aside quickly. "But going back to what you said before, tell me, did you recognize her? The brunette one, I mean."
Hawks asked her for a very specific reason. Ohno Junko wasn't his PR manager sent by the HPSC for nothing. Her Quirk—Eidetic Memory—despite its commonality in today's superpowered day and age, was rather useful in her line of work. And for any other purposes that Hawks could think of to annoy her with.
Junko's narrowed charcoal eyes stared him down for a moment. His intentions were never clear. She definitely never knew what he was up to if it didn't have to do with the agency or anything the Commission had tasked him to do. These types of moments most of all left her especially puzzled and made her ask herself when the hell she was going to finally retire. He was a headache unto himself. But she surmised that answering such a harmless question wouldn't cause her trouble later on.
Hopefully.
"No, I did not recognize the young lady. Either of them." Junko's brow raised slightly the moment Hawks' wings slumped a bit disillusioned by her answer. The sight brought to mind a very young boy, one that would get visibly upset with himself anytime her colleagues that raised him didn't get the results they thought they'd get. Not wanting for that image to haunt her the rest of the day, Junko opened one of her drawers and plucked from within a particularly old newspaper clipping and showed it to Hawks.
Amber eyes narrowed for a split second before widening and taking the newspaper clipping with renewed joy.
"I knew you wouldn't disappoint, Junko-san!"
Hawks gave her a last 'thank you' with a wave of his hand before dashing out the way he came while holding on tight to the flimsy newspaper clipping that flapped in his hand while he took to returning to his office. Before going inside, he took a moment to take a gander at it. It was just as he remembered it.
Five years ago, a couple months after graduating and officially opening his own agency, a famous newspaper published a column about him. It'd struck him as odd. He wasn't famous by any stretch of the imagination. He was a drop amongst an ocean of heroes much more notorious and better known than himself. And yet this column and more to the point, the winner that had written it, wrote about him back when he had barely entered the scene as if he'd been at it for years on end. They exemplified his rescues and battles like an odyssey and did so lavishly and without once straying from the truth. Junko had brought it to his attention simply for the fact that it spoke so eloquently of him with facts that anybody could have easily gathered from the net. And though she praised it at the moment, it caught Hawks unawares because, outside of being eloquent and lavish, it undermined him in the subtlest of ways.
And frankly, that amused him.
That the one who wrote such a short yet wonderful piece could so subtly point out his shortcomings in the same breath.
Precocious man, they called him, a name that stuck with him to this day.
What caught his attention most—what had him searching endlessly for the damn newspaper clipping through high hell and even asking Junko about it—was how it ended. A question that he had asked himself all those years ago but never quite found the answer to. One that sounded oddly familiar the other day when he was asked exactly it.
"It's imperious to ask then of this young and bright hero who holds such a bright future ahead of him how such fame, glory and reputation could possibly change or shape him from the upstart of his prosperous career to where he currently is. Or, if such should be the case, that no such change will occur and he will forever remain the precocious man who acts too fast for his own good."
And the writer's name—or at least the one they'd used—came rushing back to mind when he read it now.
Saori, huh?
Five years ago — Offices of JP Weekly
This was a mistake. A horrible, horrible mistake.
Though they desperately wanted to come out, Miryoku took one deep shaky breath to restrain the tears that threatened to spill. They weren't so much of sadness as they were of pure deep-seated fury. Just thinking of it made her crumple the letter she'd received from the news company even harder in her hand. The moment she stormed out of their apartment, Makoto had tried stopping her but Miryoku had been too livid to be stopped by anybody. None of her friends who had been there when she opened the letter from JP Weekly knew exactly why she was so angry. The thing was that she hadn't been at first. When she read her letter telling her that she had lost the contest, she was mostly disappointed and sullen with herself. But listening to her own curiosity urging her to see who had won changed that rather quickly.
It was her column. Her own work. From her colloquialisms to every last period. All of it under someone else's name.
That roaring ire exploded even faster the moment she recognized the person responsible. That's what pulled her trigger in the end. That's when she swore she wouldn't take this sitting down.
She made it to the editorial at its busiest time. People shoved past her at such a neck-breaking speed as they filed in and out of the building that it took Miryoku a moment to gather her bearings when she entered. Spotting the elevator got her sprinting to it as the last few people scrambled to get in. Miryoku held in her breath at the sudden cramped space as she reached out to press one of the buttons. Sunset eyes stared at the changing numbers above the door that came closer and closer to the 5th floor where she knew she'd find who she was looking for.
JP Weekly.
It was one of the most notorious and largest news organisations in all of the country. If you worked at JPW, you were considered the best there was regardless of how small of a position you held. That incentive had been great enticement for Miryoku to at least try entering the contest. Really the only reason why she bothered if she was honest. But she also knew the shady types of deals that went under the table around here. Like everybody else, she heard the rumors of how JPW treated its employees and customers: not by their merit but by the size of their wallets. That the current CEO of the company was a business entrepreneur rather than a journalist or editor himself rumored and known for having dealt with the Japanese mafia of old said more than enough. But Miryoku wouldn't let herself be led by the nose by people who didn't appreciate the hard work and time that went into reporting the truth. She wouldn't let them tear apart one of the few things that she was proud of doing.
Storming into the newsroom's floor flushed red and out of breath, she took to the first person she found walking around like they worked there and asked about the editor-in-chief.
"His office is over that way," the kind secretary told her despite stumbling a bit over her words.
Miryoku didn't allow her time to finish her sentence after she pointed her in the right direction. "Thank you!"
"W-Wait, you can't go in there! There's a meeting going on right now!"
Miryoku didn't listen. Anger didn't even let her think. All she knew was that this was a huge mistake and she'd be damned if it wasn't fixed. Bursting through the doors like she owned the place, the petite seventeen year old froze as eight pairs of eyes stared her down the instant she entered the room. She suddenly felt small—way smaller than usual—and way stupider for letting her emotions take her this far. But when she realized that they were discussing the very reason she had come to their offices in the first place, her fury reignited and got her to slam the letter she'd gotten on the table before them.
One of the men in the meeting rose to his feet abruptly, annoyance and anger mirrored in his dumb old face. "What's the meaning of this?!"
"That's what I'd like to know," she hissed, having at least that much common sense to not go tit-for-tat on a shouting contest with him. "Your company published my work without giving me proper credit and even had the audacity to reward the imposter that stole it."
Quiet chatter rose in the air as the men talked amongst themselves at such accusations. The old man that she now recognized as the CEO shouted above the chattering for security who quickly stormed into the room. Miryoku's resistance lasted maybe a few minutes. These men were double her size and easily took her by her arms despite her shouting. They were about to escort her out when one of the men in the room raised his voice to stop them. When he ordered the burly bodyguards to put her down, they hesitated for a moment before doing as they were told, leaving Miryoku to rub painfully where their hands had roughly gripped her arms.
The man that had spoken rose from his chair and walked over to Miryoku. He easily stood a couple of feet over her, his hair a dark indigo color slicked back to leave in full view striking gray eyes. What caught her attention the most though was how the color of his skin was spotted at places, turning a slightly darker shade than the rest of his fair skin every other second. An unlit cigarette sat between his lips and he bit down on it, twirling the nicotine stick this way and that before raising his brow at her.
"You've got guts bursting in here calling out such outrageous accusations, little girl." Miryoku's cheeks puffed slightly at the name. The man however didn't seem to notice or care, he simply kept that stone-cold stare fixated on her. "You got any proof of what you're talking about?"
"I do." Miryoku fished out one small USB from her pocket and held it up to the only person who seemed to dare hear her out. "Every last draft of it is in here. From start to finish, I wrote 17 drafts before coming to a piece that I was satisfied with. The same one that I turned in to your contest and that so happened to be chosen. Just not under my name."
He plucked the memory stick out of her hands without warning, surprising her quite a bit when he walked over to one of the nearest laptops that they had laid before each of them. Despite their nervous and mindless stammering, the man inserted the memory stick and took a gander at the files opening each and every one as Miryoku stood behind him, her heart hammering like crazy in her chest.
"Are you actually taking such preposterous accusations of a mannerless girl seriously, Koujiro-kun?" The CEO's words reverberated with the same rage his molten cheeks showed as he referred to said man.
"I do when said girl presents quite infallible evidence." The man—Koujirou-san—turned the laptop where he'd inserted the USB and showed all those present what he had skimmed through in the few minutes given.
"T-Those could've been doctored," one claimed rather forcefully. As if thinking his idea ingenious, he grinned smugly. "The reward given to the winner would be enticing enough for someone to come in claiming such dubious things."
"We could easily check for such things here but I'm almost 100% positive they weren't," Koujirou-san assured them with the same stern tone that he'd addressed her with. "The oldest files were created over a month ago. The code doesn't show any signs of manipulation either. As far as I can tell, these are legit." He turned to look over his shoulder at Miryoku, "You said you entered the contest?"
Miryoku nodded cautiously.
Koujirou-san turned back to the men present, eyeing each one separately and all faltering beneath the scrutiny. It amazed Miryoku that despite looking like the youngest out of the bunch of men there, they still cowered under his glance. Eventually it fell on the CEO who despite his best attempts not to still flinched at the cold stare. "Your daughter was the winner, Mr. Chairman. You've had me inspect and better her work enough times that I've come to recognize it. I've read the column and it is quite different from all her previous works. Now I suppose my real question is, which one of you went under my nose and tampered with the results?"
The room became deadly silent then. Miryoku even felt chills run down her spine at the sudden accusation. Koujirou-san hadn't raised his voice once and yet it was obvious that they all feared what he could do with the power he held over them. The chairman, however, wasn't as impressed. Quite the opposite.
"It matters not, Koujirou-kun." Both him and Miryoku turned to the chairman at his words and the blase tone of his words. "The column has been published and the winner with it. My daughter already signed the contract for her internship as well. Regardless of what any of them did, we cannot retract from our public word."
Miryoku's heart sank at those words.
So they believed her. She'd proved her case. But it didn't matter. There wasn't anything they would do to change things now. Her shoulders slumped as Koujirou-san tapped a pensive finger on the mahogany table he leaned on before releasing a long sigh. Without much preamble, he returned Miryoku her USB, dropping it unceremoniously onto her open palms before turning over his shoulder to glance at the chairman.
"We won't change the results. But I am to presume that when I find the culprit behind this, I will have the freedom to do with them as I see fit, correct?"
She felt the atmosphere tense once more at his question, mostly for those who remained seated and that had been so smug about whatever they had done before. The chairman, calmer than before, nodded and gave Koujirou the peace of mind he sought.
"Leave the kid to me," he told security, gently pushing Miryoku on the back to urge her to move towards the door. Dumbfounded and upset in equal measures, she let herself be guided down the five floors and out the building's door, leaving its boisterousness behind in exchange for the city's quiet morning hum.
So immersed in her own numbness was she that she didn't even notice the cab that Koujirou-san had called for her until he opened the door for her to enter.
"Kid." Sorrowful sunset eyes lifted slowly to meet dark gray as he leaned onto the door to block her from entering for that second. "What's your name?"
"Chimni. Chimni Miryoku." Brow furrowed with the oddity and suddenness of the question, "Why?"
"How long have you been writing columns?"
"S-Since middle school." Miryoku sniffled slightly and wiped at her somewhat runny nose with the sleeve of her cardigan. "I-I've been in the school newspaper since middle school and still am in high school right now."
"And this was your first time entering anything for publication?" Miryoku nodded solemnly.
Nodding along with her, he reached into his breast pocket for a card and handed it over to her. Miryoku held it with both her hands and between her thumbs and forefingers as she took a moment to inspect it. JPW's logo was plastered on the top part of it and his name was printed in neat letters along with his job title and number beneath it, Nagano Koujirou, Editor in Chief of JP Weekly. Sunset eyes grew wide and she nearly spat saliva over him at the sudden discovery. Luckily, she coughed instead and turned her head away before turning back to him as he spoke.
"If you want to continue in the business, give me a call. I'll find you freelance work that you can hone your skills with and once you're out of high school, I'll have a spot for you at JPW working under me."
Disbelief washed over her at such an outrageous proposition. It was amazing. Too amazing to even be true.
"...You've gotta be fucking with me."
He scoffed at the sudden slip of the word. "Not in the least. Your work was a notch above the rest despite having its own flaws. After going through all the applicants, your column was the obvious choice simply by skill alone. Your work is raw, strongly worded, and not daring to deviate from the truth or mask it. It's forceful and unpolished but that's something that can be worked on. That is...if you truly want to continue in this field."
Miryoku's hold on the tiny business card tightened like the anchor it was.
"I do."
"Good," he said, the hint of a smug grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. "A fiery spirit and a spine like yours is what we need this day and age in our journalists." With that said he gave her leeway to enter the taxi and closed the door after she took a seat. He leaned against the open window for a moment longer to give one last word of advice. "And you better get used to that bitterness you're feeling right now. Out here, justice and the truth get trampled by greed and the personal gain of those higher than us. And it's our job to surpass them without outright doing so."
Miryoku could not keep herself from asking.
"How can I do that?"
"By playing their game better than them."
Present Day — Offices of JP Weekly. Fifth floor, eighth cubicle on the far left.
Miryuoku jolted awake the instant a stack of papers plopped down with force against her tiny desk. Mumbling at nothing at first, her sunset eyes blinked at the stack before following it up to the person who'd dropped them onto her desk. Seeing familiar gray eyes and a smartass smirk with an unlit cigarette between it made her groan, disgruntled.
"Rise and shine, kiddo," Koujirou teased before guffawing at the face she gave him. "Late night unpacking?"
"Like you wouldn't imagine," she replied with a long yawn that only made him laugh harder.
Very few people bothered with paying any attention to their editor in chief, especially when he got into his routine of torturing his workers with extra work. Mere glances were all he got from the other employees, something that Miryoku had painstakingly gotten used to during her time working full-time for the news conglomerate. And somehow she still couldn't come to grasp her boss's sense of humor. Running a hand down her tired face, Miryoku eyed the documents that took hold of all the free space that her small desk gave her in the already tiny cubicle.
"Did they finally find out about the mad scientist debacle?" she groggily asked in a low volume.
Koujirou scoffed. "They would've fired you on the spot. So no, that's a secret I'm taking to the grave, kid." He patted the top of the documents, a pile high enough for him to easily rest his arm comfortably on top of. "Guess again."
"Demotion? Karma?" Koujirou shook his head. With some more thought, Miryoku blanched. "Wait, this isn't because of the broken coffee machine, is it? Because whatever you heard, it wasn't me."
"This doesn't have to do with—wait, it was you who broke the coffeemaker last week?"
Miryoku cleared her throat and laughed it off before wrapping her arms around the pile to bring it closer. "S-So! What's all this for, Koujiro-san?"
"It wasn't punishment but I'm starting to think you deserve it now." There was no more hiding her guilt but luckily Koujiro let it go for the time being and patted the pile one last time. "This, my dear girl, is your paperwork from this past month."
"Oh, don't tell me I screwed up again." Though she meant to say it under her breath, that she stood up so abruptly to inspect it made it come out rather forcefully. Clearing her throat again, she eyed the first couple of them before furrowing her brow. "Wait, everything's in order. What's the problem then?"
"None whatsoever...except for the fact that you forgot to file it electronically. Again." Koujirou then grabbed the entirety of the pile and dropped it onto the recycling box underneath her desk. It fell with a resounding smack that got Miryoku flinching. Something not helped in the least by the mention of a mistake that tended to happen rather often.
"That can't be. I had a—" But looking up at her desktop monitor for the bright neon pink sticky note she'd posted the past month to keep this exact debacle from happening again made her freeze at finding the edges of said monitor rather bear. Miryoku searched about in a panic under and over all the mess in her desk before finally finding it underneath her keyboard with a dreadful expression. "...reminder."
"All the good that did." Koujirou, with a simple nudge, moved the pile further in front of her and brought it even more to her attention. "Sorry to say you'll have to do this by the end of the week, Miryoku."
End of the week?!
Instead of panicking, Miryoku took a shaky breath and tapped her nails against her desk to attempt to calm that rousing panic. "It's...doable. Thank god Ito-san isn't a complete mess of a writer."
"Speaking of Ito, you're gonna have to check her work and edit it to my standards by Wednesday. I want that on my desk first thing Thursday so that we can publish it with the rest of the works before the Billboard Gala on Saturday."
Miryoku's mind ran a mile a second and ended up bunched up at the end from that.
"I'm sorry, what?"
"You heard me, kid." Scratching one of his dark-skinned fingers against another dark patch on his cheek ignited his thumb with a small red ember. Before he had the sense of lighting his cigarette though, he put out the tiny flame and grimaced down at her. "The Hero Billboard Charts ain't something we can fall behind on. Not before, during or after. You know this."
Indeed she did.
She let out a drawn out sigh as the panic got replaced by stress ten times worse. This was a biannual speech for her, mostly because, out of the few people in charge of reporting, she was the most vocally against putting so much emphasis on those rankings. As far as the whole of Japan was concerned, the top three spots rarely changed anyways and the remaining in the top ten were just shuffled around between the same people in the end. But Koujirou's motto always rang true whenever she complained, 'it's news to someone somewhere'. And so long as that stayed true, they were bound to report on it. No matter how banal Miryoku thought it was.
Thankfully, Miryoku had been put in charge of the team reporting post-event and the subsequent gala that happened to commemorate the occasion for the past two years. She had been nowhere near the infamous crowds that gathered there since she came to work in JPW and she thanked her lucky stars for that blessing.
A small bright side.
Jingling suddenly brought her attention away from her scattered train of thought and back to the present. In front of her now was a lanyard with several enameled cards with her picture, name and occupation typed on them alongside JPW's logo. Instinctively, she took them in hand but couldn't keep from blinking owlishly at them and back at Kojirou a couple of times.
"And these?"
"Journalist badges for the Billboard event and gala."
Her brain came to a screeching halt and took a little too long to reboot then. Long enough to incite a nervous chuckle out of her as she robotically returned them to him.
"There must be a mistake then. I don't attend either of those." But when Kojirou refused to take them back and only showed her pursed lips and a raised eyebrow, her blood ran cold at the insinuation. "Tell me you're joking."
"Can't say I am."
"I'll buy a new coffeemaker for the office. I won't ever forget to file my paperwork again. I'll never guilt trip you into giving me a choice in my work again. So please, please don't make me go."
"Sorry, kiddo, there's no haggling your way out of this one. You're attending the Billboard and gala this year to report on them." He let out a small scoff, "Maybe this'll help you not to forget to file your paperwork three months in a row."
Miryoku could've screamed. But she kept a tight lid on those raging emotions and instead just let a painful squeal through pursed lips that brought another bout of laughter from out of Kojirou.
"Relax, Miryoku. You'll do just fine. I trust you're capable enough to do it."
That makes one of us.
But she didn't retort. Not this time. Instead she decided to wallow in her despair silently and simply gave a tight-lipped mockery of a smile before nodding. With that, Kojirou left her cubicle and almost instantly, her forehead plopped onto her keyboard in frustration. Her monitor lit up like a Christmas tree with opened windows in response to the multitude of keys being pressed down simultaneously.
"Whoa there, you're gonna run your poor computer up the wall like that. And that'll be record time seeing how we put them through maintenance last week."
Groaning under her breath but knowing they spoke the truth, Miryoku lifted her head and rubbed at her forehead before meeting the quirky expression of one of the few people that she considered friends in this office.
"Tell me you didn't just hear that, Hoshiko."
Hoshiko pursed her lips and nodded. "You mean if I heard you get your ear chewed off by Koujirou-san as he does monthly because of paperwork? Why yes, I did." Suddenly, her friend's overly dramatic side shined when she pressed the back of her hand to her forehead and feigned being faint. "And your punishment is to attend not only the Billboards but also a highly private gala with tens of hundreds of famous heroes from all over Japan! Oh, the humanity!"
"If you're gonna mock me, drop the theatrics and tell it to me straight, Hoshi."
"I am," she replied with a smile as she quickly returned to normality. Giving Miryoku a pitiful smile, she patted her back a couple of times in a small attempt to comfort her. Hoshiko leaned quickly over to the next cubicle and tapped someone's shoulder, "Yo, Koyanagi. Did you hear what trouble our little star got 'cause of her usual mishaps?"
From the other side of the cubicle, Miryoku spotted the bright orange head of another coworker and friend, Koyanagi, springing up as a mocking grin split across his face.
"Loud and clear, Momose." He sprawled his arm on the edge of the small wall that separated their workplaces to lean into the conversation. "Nagano-san truly knows how to hand it to ya though. The Billboard and gala are hell for any reporter who doesn't know the rundown of things."
"Don't leave me hanging, Koyanagi," Miryoku pouted and smacked at his arm hard enough to send it towards his side. "You've been to it. Care to give me that so-called 'rundown'?"
"I would if I still didn't remember the lunch you stole from me three months ago."
"It was an honest mistake! And I paid you back for that already, you asshole."
"Honest mistake, my ass." Koyanagi turned to Hoshiko. "Was my tupperware different from hers or not?"
Hoshiko tapped her cheek pensively for a second while Koyanagi smacked away at the hand signals that Miryoku tried sending her. Finally her friend perked up with a genuine smile that belied her intentions.
"Nope! Totally different!"
"You guys suck."
The laughter that burst from her coworkers dissipated a little of her stress as the giddiness reached her a bit. If Miryoku liked anything about the few friends she had it was that they knew when to cheer her up and how. Whether it was Koyanagi and Hoshiko at work or Makoto and her other friend outside of it, they were all godsent in her opinion. Just as she was about to ask them out for lunch later on to maybe help her forget about the horrid work she had piled up, her words caught in her throat when the sudden loud smack of paper against the top edge of their cubicles surprised them. All three turned wide eyed at the petite figure that so rudely caught their attention and met a pair of peeved pink, almost red eyes that were perfectly framed by cream-colored fringes.
"You all have far more important work to be doing than chat if I'm not mistaken." From the small aisle that separated the cubicles from the rest of the office, a very familiar and irritating woman chastised them with a rolled up magazine in one hand and a rather expensive looking handbag in the other. "I would get to it on the double if I were you lot." When no one answered, she snapped back at them and smacked the edge of the cubicle again. "Go on now. Chop, chop."
Though Hoshiko and Koyanagi cowered a little knowing the petite woman's power in the company, Miryoku sent her a dry look before spitting out her mind without a care.
"And if I were you, I'd probably get started on that article for the Billboard Charts that is due before Friday." Miryoku raised an eyebrow while giving her an aloof expression to the petite woman's sudden shock. "One I'm sure you haven't even started, right, Saori?"
Saori's cheeks reddened at the accusation. She huffed as if wanting to retort but when Miryoku only leaned forward with folded arms on the edge of the cubicle and chin resting on them, she only humphed before storming off. The three watched her leave, two with mild caution and the other with great indifference and a smidge of satisfaction.
"Death doesn't scare you, does it?" Hoshiko hissed back while childishly blocking the view of her face with the clipboard she'd been carrying around.
Miryoku could do little other than shrugged her shoulders apathetically. "She doesn't scare me. Never has, never will."
"I'd say." Koyanagi idly passed her some documents to look over, speaking to her as she skimmed through them rather quickly. "Guess it's true when they say spite is a great motivator. Not to mention that your grudges are a legendary thing for sure. How long has it been? Three years? Four?"
"Five years and 5 months but who's counting."
She was. She counted them. All because this wasn't something she bothered hiding from those who knew her.
Hanazawa Saori, the daughter of the current CEO of JP Weekly, had been her friend once upon a time back in their early years of high school. She, Makoto and her had been a trio that underwent the usual trials and tribulations any hormonal teens would face and did so with style and perseverance. All three had been part of the school newspaper though not at the same time. Saori had been a rather meek thing back then held under the constrictive thumb of her overbearing and demanding father who had only years prior obtained his position as CEO. Because of the sure position he could have for her in JPW, he'd been forcing her to pursue a journalistic career, something that although hadn't quite interested her at first as she had told them once was something she grew fond of after joining Makoto and her a few times to club activities. Or more like the times that Makoto dragged her along while Miryoku had no qualms with it so long as she wouldn't interfere in their work. Slowly, though, and after Saori joined the club, the three grew close and soon enough became friends.
It wasn't until that fateful day of her third year that it all changed. All precipitated when she returned from JPW after fighting the losing battle of rescuing her stolen column.
One that Saori plagiarized.
Miryoku felt guilty at first after that rejection, thinking that if she hadn't been running late to a certain appointment, she would've been able to drop off the manuscript herself instead of having to rely on Saori to deliver it. But there hadn't been anything to distrust her for before that fateful backstabbing. That fact made it easier to let go of that self-loathing. Not quite so the anger, though. Especially when Saori completely denied the claim to her and Makoto's faces.
Just thinking about it made Miryoku fume with fury. It had been like talking to a wall. That or her head had been shoved so far up her ass by her father that she refused to admit something so blatantly obvious.
Regardless of the reason, the one action had irrevocably broken their friendship. Though Makoto tried to remedy the situation, it didn't turn out well in the end. Quite the opposite. It only got worse after Miryoku went to college and decided to take Koujiro-san up on that part-time gig. The mere fact of having to see Saori everyday working the internship she won with her writing only added more fuel to the fire. Miryoku tried her best to dissuade her anger though and channeled it on getting petty wins instead. Things like being Koujiro's prefered journalist and being able to talk smack to Soari whenever she wanted to were good examples of those. The perks of being able to scandalize her position by simply letting the whole office know how she got it in the first place.
The world might not know but damn it all if she wouldn't shout it to them given the chance.
When remembering something Koyanagi had just said, she chuckled. He was certainly right about one thing. She knew damn well how to hold a grudge.
"Chimni-san!"
All three of their heads snapped up like groundhogs coming out of their holes at the sound of her name. It wasn't until the floor's secretary barely came into view as she turned the hallway that Miryoku blanched completely at what she held in her hands.
"Oh, what pretty flowers!" Hoshiko ran up to meet their floor secretary who handed them to her.
"The delivery boy just came in and dropped them off." Once the bouquet was in another's hands, the secretary procured a small enveloped note. "Didn't say who they were from. And the card doesn't have a name from what I saw either."
"Did you read it?" Miryoku asked, a bit panicked.
The woman shook her head. "I know better than to be nosy."
Miryoku took the small envelope in between her fingers while trying to stop the shaking of her hand. Thanking her and apologizing for sounding so rude was enough to get her on her way. She fiddled with the small enveloped note, her eyes never straying from the bouquet Hoshiko held in her hands as her mind ran through what to say.
"You must be getting quite popular," Koyanagi joked. "This is, what, the fifth one these past two weeks? Geez, the guy must be the blandest out there if he can't think of anything else to give you."
"Well, I think they're beautiful," Hoshiko huffed with puffed cheeks before turning to Miryoku with a sweet smile. "Want me to put them in a vase for you?"
Think, Ryo, think…
When Koyanagi's comment ran through her head for the hundredth time an idea finally arose. Miryoku let out a small chuckle, small enough so that her nervousness wouldn't show.
"K-Koyanagi's kind of right. Flowers do lose their meaning after getting them so often." She patted Hoshiko's hand doing her best to avoid touching the bouquet. "Say, want to keep these, Hoshi?"
Hoshiko mulled it over for a bit before giving a nonchalant shrug despite the hint of a smile on her face. "Well, if you don't want them, don't mind if I do!"
With Hoshiko gone to put her flowers in a vase, Koyanagi returned to his cubicle and to his work. That finally left Miryoku alone as she hunched back down to hide behind her thin walls. Instead of returning to work immediately though, her fingers idly turned the envelope in her hand as her mind raced with thousands of thoughts.
But no matter how long she thought about it, she kept arriving to the same conclusion.
Don't.
Without pause after making up her mind, she ripped the enveloped note in half and tossed it in the bin. Soon enough she went about starting the month's worth of filing to get her mind off of things, not noticing how every so often she would rub the base of her left ring finger.
Later that evening— Fashion boutique, 'Atelier'.
"Y'know, when they told me you put in a team-up request, I thought it'd be more of a go beat up bad guys 'round your neighborhood or something." Playfully, Hawks leaned forward on the chair he sat backwards on, arms folded over the top of it as his amber eyes met bright red through their reflection on the mirror in front of them. "Suit shopping was definitely somewhere on the top of my list though."
The Rabbit Hero, Miruko, let out a bout of laughter all the while putting on the silver dress jacket over the dark blue suit piece she wore. Carefully, she pulled her long silver tresses out from beneath the jacket's back before tying it up loosely in a low ponytail and posing carelessly in front of the three-paneled mirror that stood poised deep in the boutique.
Miruko smirked at herself before looking down at him. "Hey, my request was legit! But that's not here nor there. Besides, just because your suit is ready for the gala doesn't mean you can't come with me to get the details done on mine."
"We do have a job, you know," Hawks commented teasingly, raising his hand to let his chin rest on his palm.
"Other people have got it covered." She posed a few more times before turning back to Hawks and smacking him on the shoulder without warning and earning a jerk from his wings. Not expecting it, his hand buckled and his chin fell forward with it, making him chuckle a bit at the gesture. "Plus, I dare you to tell me to my face that you really want to go on night patrol today."
Hawks responded with a toothy grin and a superfluous, "Of course." It only really got her to laugh again a second before she called out to the seamster.
He watched from afar as the middle-aged man took note of the little details that Miruko pointed out. Soon, though, he grew bored of it. Abhorring such tediousness, his attention ambled a couple of times until he noted a small pin that Miruko had placed to one side along with the rest of her clothes. It was a funny looking pin of a cartoon bunny with a bright pink cap on their ears and a white flower on one of them. Hawks mindlessly picked it up from where it laid on top of her clothes and inspected it under the light. It was definitely scratched up and old. Some of the enamel had peeled off from exposure, it seemed, because parts of the color were beginning to chip away and leaving the simple bronze beneath exposed.
"Hey!" A quick hand snatched the small pin and brought his attention back to Miruko. Said hero was huffing mad and more than a bit peeved as the seamster trailed after her with pins still held dangerously out in the open. "Didn't your folks teach ya not to touch other people's things?"
Hardly anything, actually. Quieting the cynic in him, he cracked a smile while apologizing.
"My bad, my bad. The thing just looked a bit childish for you to be carrying around. Especially with it looking like it's seen better years."
"It was a gift."
Amber eyes widened a bit in recognition.
He knew that tone from her. Countless drunken nights after a few years of knowing each other wouldn't let him forget the kind of tone she took when talking about a certain person. He didn't know their name—never cared to actually ask—but he knew her by the nickname Miruko would call them by: snow bunny. Or the one he personally gave them, the one that got away from her. They'd been together when she'd been about to open her own agency a few years after graduating but, from what he could gather, her partner broke it off between them. He didn't know the details apart from the fact that them being five years apart kinda had something to do with their reason to end things with Miruko. And to this day, that relationship clung to the rabbit hero and affected her to this day. It was the only explanation that he could garner from her still keeping such a childish thing as a pin as keepsake from a past relationship.
"Why do you keep that thing if it's painful to even look at?"
"Shut your trap."
"Doesn't it?" Hawks teased, a little curious as to what the answer could possibly be. "I mean, it's been five years already and you're still clinging to them like they could come back into your life at any moment."
"It's not like I don't talk to her anymore, you dodo."
That made him reel back and blink a couple of times. "You still talk to them?"
Miruko shrugged her shoulders as she got helped from the seamster with carefully removing the pinned suit jacket. "She ended things nicely and wasn't against it when I contacted her a few years back. It kinda slowed when she said she was getting married and I haven't heard much from her since but even with her fiancé in tow, she hasn't left me out to dry."
"You consider her a friend?" Hawks asked in disbelief.
"She's there when you're too damn busy for one."
Can't blame you there.
Despite backing off as of recently, the Hero Public Safety Commission was starting to get riled up again for some reason. That he didn't quite know why—yet—spoke volumes as to how much under wraps they still were. But frankly, the less they bothered him, the better. It'd give him some free time to enjoy...after the charts and gala were over anyway. Remembering the events that loomed over him got Hawks to let out a long tiring sigh as he waited for Miruko to change back into her own clothes. Good thing they'd agreed to go have a few beers after this shopping spree she dragged him through.
"I'll wait for you at the front of the store!"
Hawks didn't even wait for her reply before he was already halfway there. He met the seamster and owner of the boutique with an amicable smile and went about aimlessly ambling through the front when the entrance's bell jingled. There hadn't been much reason to put it any attention, at least not until a high-pitched squeal came out of someone behind him. Red feathers ruffled at the way the sound pierced his ears but he hid the slight uncomfortableness well enough to turn to meet what he knew he'd find behind him: a fan.
Automatically, he switched to his charismatic self and smiled at the young woman who came in accompanied by a much older gentleman. By mere looks, Hawks bet it was either her father or grandfather, though in this day and age who knew honestly.
"Father, it's Hawks."
Though it was quietly muttered, his sharp ears and even more so his sensitive feathers caught the vibrations that were a clear telltale of her words. Unprompted, the man let out a low chuckle before turning to Hawks with a broad smile. The man seemed somewhat familiar from somewhere. It was odd but it certainly piqued his interest.
"My, what a surprise to find one of Japan's finest heroes at such a place. Will say that we appreciate your work, Hawks. You keep my company well fed with stories all year 'round with your heroics. Truly, you've done JP Weekly a grand service since your debut. And my daughter here is quite the fan, I might add."
What a plug in.
Made sense why he seemed familiar now. In his search for the damn newspaper clip that morning and whole of the afternoon, he'd looked into the company. Most likely where he'd seen him. The woman, though, was a whole other thing. Without batting an eye, he turned towards her and gave her a quick look. Petite even for him, her light blonde hair was swept to one side by a ponytail and large reddish pink eyes stared back at him starstruck. Her being the daughter of JPW's CEO was clear as day by her attire and the way she carried herself.
Prim and proper as they come.
The young woman gave a bow and smiled meekly. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Hawks. I'm Hanazawa Saori."
His feathers perked a bit at the name. It couldn't be…could it?
"The pleasure's all mine. Gotta say, you've got quite the unique name there. Are you by any chance also a journalist in your father's company?"
"W-Why, yes! I am." She lit up like a lightbulb then, cheeks molten red and all. "Have been interning since highschool before becoming a fulltime employee."
"Wow, that's quite impressive." Though he hated toeing around the issue, he knew that bringing it up right away would be odd. A part of him, however, couldn't quite keep itself restrained and got his mouth moving before he could think about it. "You wouldn't be the same 'Saori' that wrote that one article about me years ago, would it?"
Her pink eyes shot open for a moment and all sense of elation she'd shown vanished like someone had snapped the giddiness from her. The sudden change took him by surprise, and though she clearly tried to recover without calling attention to herself, it was far too late. The way she stumbled with her words for the first few words made him all the more suspicious until she spoke.
"...that would be me, yes. I wrote it for a contest."
Odd. It wasn't hard for him to hide his confusion behind a smile despite there being plenty of it from all that he saw that contradicted her words.
"Well, it was quite the column, I'll say. Helped propel an image that follows me to this day."
The meek smile she gave this time was very different from the one she'd started out with. This one seemed a lot more demure. Something that her averting her eyes only added to.
"I'm flattered but...it really wasn't that big of a deal."
"But it was darling!" The way her eyes grew wide and panicked when her father spoke up was something he easily caught too. "Individually as well as unanimously chosen by each of my staff even when all entries came in anonymously. Quite the feat at such a young age. I daresay she resembles such a prodigy as yourself, Hawks. With both having such talent in their line of work, it's quite impressive."
"Quite indeed," he agreed but hid the bit of skepticism that grew with every word that spilled out of them.
Interrupted as they were by the seamster, Hawks found their conversation cut off abruptly as they were given neatly packaged clothes. Mr. CEO turned to him as he helped his daughter with her boxes to quickly shake his hand as farewell.
"It was quite a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Hawks. As things stand now, you might see my daughter around during the Billboard Charts and the gala as well."
"Surely a journalists job never ends." The blase tone of his joke didn't seem to reach the old man as they both gave curt nods after their departure. The father was as pleased as could be while his daughter seemed to writhed behind a meek and shaky smile.
The front door's bell rang with finality to signal their leave and with it, Hawks clearly heard the obvious sigh of relief that came from the seamster. Curious, Hawks couldn't help asking.
"I imagine having such important customers like them is tough."
"I'd say, though not for the reasons one might think." It impressed Hawks a bit how acquiesced the old seamster was with his reply. Must be quite the job then.
"Mm? What would those be then?"
The seamster's mouth moved one way then the other, obviously pondering whether or not to open his mouth and say something. Luckily for Hawks, there wasn't much he needed to do to have the seamster spilling his hardships out.
"Surely you must've heard the rumors going around about Hanazawa-san's dealings with the mafia."
Red feathers perked with mild interest though nuanced for the old man's sake. "Mafia? Haven't those guys been old news for a while?"
"One would think so, right?" The seamster peeked about to make sure they were alone before leaning forward over the register. "Word around says that there's still some dealings under the table with the rich and famous who can afford it though. Hanazawa-san being one of them. Something that sounds more plausible if you believe the rumors about his gambling problems." Heaving another sigh, he retreated back behind his counter and shook his head with a mulling expression on his face. "He's a loyal customer but his comings and goings really bring a tad bit of bad press to my shop."
Before he could inquire any further though, his feathers trembled at the rushing air that came with Miruko's sudden jump.
"All done!"
Hawks stood back to let Miruko jump from out the back of the store to meet up with the seamster for details. Though the conversation was left at that, he couldn't stop thinking what exactly would have such people as those with seemingly everything they could possibly want stooping as low as to deal with the scraps left behind from the gangster years. But that pondering lasted at most a minute when Miruko snatched him out of the store once her order was done and over with. He dismissed it with a mere shrug and followed after the hyperactive rabbit to a nearby dinner for an early dinner before patrol.
Wonder if they have beer there.
Same Evening — Kyshu, Chimni Household
"How is this remotely possible!?" Hangers with clothes split right in half as Makoto peeked at each with a diligent eye. With the brief glance however, she heaved one of the longest and heaviest sighs ever. "You own no clothes whatsoever!"
The biting of the top of a pen was interrupted rather abruptly the instant those words reached Miryoku's ears. Her focus broke away from the desktop monitor that sat atop her desk at one corner of her room for a second to glance at Makoto from behind red-rimmed glasses.
"What are you babbling on about? My clothes are right there."
"You have nothing that's even close to formal here!"
Sunset eyes, now more vibrant without brown colored contacts to dull their color, rolled so hard that they almost went to the back of her head. Ignoring Makoto for the time being, Miryoku once more got comfortable in her chair as she sat before her monitor crossed legged. The stack of papers she'd brought from the office mocked her as they sat at the far end of her desk while a smaller, more digestible stack sat on her open lap for easy access. Miryoku hated bringing work home. But desperate times called for...whatever the hell this is. Certainly not desperate if she thought about it. Even in three days time, she was able to finish such work if she stayed a few extra hours behind at the office. But with the rather unfortunate news that she'd be attending the billboards and gala that weekend, there was honestly no time to stay behind and do things her way. Especially now when she had to worry about her attire and how on earth to deal with the crowds and heroes in attendance.
Thankfully, she had Makoto for such emergencies.
Her past experiences with Captain Celebrity and her year out in America a few years back gave her the expertise that Miryoku so desperately needed at the moment.
Junji's deep bark resounded in her chest despite him being far enough while laying on her bed. It was loud enough to make her jump with how out of it she'd been thinking of what a mess of a situation she was currently in.
"I'm with you, Jun," Makoto humphed audibly. "She has nothing useful here."
"My clothes are fine."
"For a stroll down Ikebukuro maybe."
Miryoku rolled her eyes again and rolled her chair back to have her raised brow clearly in view for Makoto. "You're such a drama queen."
"Am I?" Makoto quickly rummaged through her closet and yanked out the first shirt she found. The somewhat oversized white t-shirt only had the decal of a tired egg yolk climbing over its eggshell with a speech bubble that read 'whatever' on it. Junji growled at the shirt that Makoto held which made her raise her own brow in defiance. "'Cause Gudentama begs to differ."
"I won that at the arcade!"
"Years ago!" Makoto interjected before pulling out another t-shirt that although more fitting, wasn't any less childish. "And My Melody ain't cutting it either."
"Hey, that one's a keepsake. I don't even wear it anymore."
Makoto humphed still clearly peeved as she pulled out her entire wardrobe one by one only to reject it and toss it on the bed. Junji yelped in protest when the first couple landed on him until he decided to jump off and go lay down on his own bed next to Miryoku's desk. Peeved as she was, Miryoku watched Makoto from her place as she made a mess of her room. Not like it wasn't a mess already. Good thing she picked up some before Makoto got here or she would've spent the better half of the afternoon cleaning instead of working.
"I can't believe you." Her friend's shoulders slumped comically after having emptied her closet completely and stared defeatedly at the pile of clothes. "You're so not prepared for this."
"I told you I called for a good reason," Miryoku said mindlessly while going back to typing away at her keyboard. "You're good with these sorts of things."
"Good, yes, not a miracle worker, Ryo." Shaking her head, Makoto fished out her phone from her back pocket and quickly dialed a number.
Curious at the sudden action, Miryoku tilted her head to one side while leaving her work aside for a minute. "Who're you calling?"
"Reinforcements 'cause you need them—hey, you, how was your day?" Miryoku watched as her friend talked with the other person, exchanging pleasantries here and there before getting to the point at hand. "Yeah, listen, real sorry about calling you so late but I need some help with Ryo. Specifically in the fashion department."
Miryuoku didn't bother listening to the rest of the conversation. It wasn't like she could listen in on it, anyway. But by the sound of it, her problem would be solved one way or another. Scrambling through her paperwork for another twenty minutes to wait on that promise though made her stumble onto something she'd forgotten about after all the work she'd been given that day: the print out of the letter. Her mood sank at the sight of it and she picked it again to read it through out of habit.
The same emotions that accompanied her throughout the day returned once more. But instead of ravaging her with rage, they stung and pained her. This letter lied to her all those years ago and now it hurt her. Something she had inadvertently put so much sweat and heart into and that had turned into one of her best pieces before she went pro...and it was taken from her.
Not just by one single person but by a whole slew of people who allowed this injustice.
And now I work for those people.
Miryoku would be lying if she said she hadn't thought of taking revenge on them. There had actually been a plan in her mind. Though not something that would hurt them, she had planned on turning them down if they asked her to work for them after Kojirou went through with his word of training her and helping her gain status as a journalist. But after working with him and experiencing the honesty and dignity with which most of them carried themselves, she couldn't see herself refusing. It was a great place to intern and work in but the rotten bunch of eggs that didn't allow her to work comfortably made it hard to keep the peace. And more often than not, it got her to bump heads with her higher ups. Miryoku was already on the red after quite a few mishaps not counting her current predicament. As things stood, she could guess her superiors only had so much patience left.
It's always my way or the highway, ain't it?
She chuckled incredulously knowing full well that such a thing wasn't possible. When it all came down to it, she really had no power in what she did. All she could hope for was to get justice for those who needed it and give voice to those who couldn't speak up for themselves.
The ringing of her doorbell and Junji's subsequent barking snapped her out of her deep thoughts. Leaving the letter behind, Miryoku chased after Makoto who rushed to the front door. By the time she got there, sunset eyes were wide as could be as a familiar snow white peppered red head poked from the bunch of clothes that popped out of a box she was holding. Gray eyes hidden behind small glasses brightened and a smile spread across her face at the sight of Miryoku.
"Ryo-chan!"
"Yumi?"
Surprise and delight mixed with Miryoku's expression at seeing Todoroki Fuyumi as she made it into her living room with Makoto helping her put down the bunch of clothes she'd been holding. Both women ran to each other squealing in delight and hugging the daylights out of each other the moment they met up halfway. Makoto watched from afar with a smile on her face and held back Junji who, after having gotten over his need to protect Miryoku from the stranger, now sat excited and waited on his turn to join in. The two held each other at arms' length before hugging once more.
"God, I haven't seen you in almost half a year!" Miryoku voiced without a tinge of the sadness that such thought would usually bring. "I missed you so much."
"I know, I missed you so much too!" Fuyumi finally released her and let Miryoku guide her to her living room to sit. "How have you been? I was so worried when I heard what happened with—"
"I'm fine, Yumi." Miryoku didn't want to interrupt her but she really didn't want to hear what she was about to say either. "I'm getting over it slowly." Very slowly.
"Yes, Makoto-san told me as much." She chuckled and held onto Miryoku's hands tightly in response. "But that aside, I meant to come sooner. I was actually going to surprise you a couple of days ago and come help you unpack but something came up at work."
"Don't worry," she assured her, "I'm glad you're here now."
"And you're sorely needed as well, Fuyumi."
Both turned to Makoto who easily carried the box of clothes Fuyumi had brought with her into Miryoku's room. They followed their eccentric friend in, Fuyumi following Makoto as she unloaded the clothes on her already loaded bed while Miryoku took back her seat in front of her computer. Junji tore into the box while Fuyumi and Makoto laid out the bunch of dresses she'd brought with her.
"So, Makoto-san didn't really specify what the dresses were for, aside from the fact that I needed to bring them with me. What's going on?"
Miryoku sighed as Junji, having finished terrorizing the box, came over and clung onto her for some belly rubs.
"I got stuck with reporting for the billboard charts and gala for JPW."
"That's exciting," Fuyumi chipped in sounding delighted about it.
"Not as much as you might think," Miryoku assured her. "Especially when according to Mako, I've got nothing to wear for it."
"You don't."
"I have nice dresses."
"Not nice enough for such a thing as Japan's Hero Billboard Charts, you don't." Makoto skimmed through the dresses separating them quickly into piles. "And you have got to be presentable for this."
Miryoku rolled her eyes but smiled back at Fuyumi, "Anyway, since I moved, I've got no money to spare on nonessentials. So when we didn't find anything that met Mako's standards, she thought of calling you up, I guess."
"I see," Fuyumi said airily with her fingers resting on her cheek. "Well, in that case, I think I have a few that could fit the occasion."
"That you do."
The two once more turned to Makoto at her words but before she could land her sight on her blackhaired friend, a pile of clothes occluded her vision and left her babbling out curse after curse at Makoto for the sudden scare. Once she made her way out, Miryoku scowled at Makoto, something that didn't seem to faze her in the least as she plucked Miryoku out of her chair and into the adjacent bathroom.
"Now change!"
It wasn't like she could argue with Makoto. Not when she got like this. So instead of wasting her energy, Miryoku did as she was told, trying and leaving behind each and every dress that Makoto had proposed when they got rejected by her. Makoto didn't like how some styles didn't fit her, Fuyumi thought they didn't do her justice, and Miryoku just didn't like how all of them were just that tad bit loose around her chest.
"We can fix that quickly enough," Makoto assured her, ushering her back into the bathroom one last time.
This last one looked nice, even she could tell that when she peeked at herself in the mirror. But she just didn't like how it looked on her. She wasn't the kind to buy revealing dresses like this with the off-the-shoulder sleeves and exposed back. Neither was she one for flamboyant colors like the bright red this one was. But when she came out, it seemed like both Makoto and Fuyumi were instantly taken by it.
"That's it!"
"Oh, you look gorgeous, Ryo-chan."
"I don't know." She chuckled nervously as her hand reached up to put up the loose sleeve that kept sliding over her shoulder. "Isn't it a bit too much?"
"You're a journalist that's seeking out to interview heroes in a crowd of more than a hundred people," Makoto pointed out just adding more anxiety onto Miryoku's head. "Drawing attention to yourself is a must!"
"You do look lovely," Fuyumi added. "Besides, if you really don't like it just think of it this way, it's only for one night."
Yeah, it does help a little. Defeated by their rhetoric, Miryoku sighed and nodded to their delight. Quickly changing into her pajamas, she exited the bathroom ready to work and found Makoto putting the clothes away in their place while Fuyumi dawdled by her desktop reading something. Walking over to her and noticing the glum expression, Miryoku guessed almost instantly what she was reading.
"I found it by accident in one of the boxes," she quietly commented.
"Why keep it?" Fuyumi asked.
"It's a reminder, I guess."
So that I don't trust the wrong people with things that are so important to me ever again.
Makoto came over to Fuyumi having finished rearranging her closet and pouted at the letter once having read it over Fuyumi's shoulder. "Does she still work there?"
"It'd be something to be fired when your daddy owns the company, Mako."
"I suppose they have her as an employee because of her skills too, right?" Fuyumi asked, hopeful to disintegrate the sting the subject brought.
"She's...decent." Miryoku wouldn't lie, not even about Saori's sort of incompetence when writing. "But considering she's had private tutors for years, she should be at a higher level than all of us there combined for one. Which she isn't."
"Well, that's not here nor there" Makoto asked for the letter and took it from Fuyumi when she passed it to her and crumpled it despite Miryoku's protests. "You work with her, so what? You're still one of the top dogs in JPW and you're set in the company with Kojirou-san backing you. Things couldn't be better for you!
"I've got a gala to go to, Mako. And a shitload of work to do that Koujirou-san assigned to me, thank you for reminding me."
"Pfft," she scoffed, dismissing her negativity. "You've got this. You always do. Besides, even if the billboards are a bit hectic, you'll definitely have fun at the gala. I attended the ones in America back when we studied abroad and they were amazing!"
"There's a difference between us, though," Miryoku pointed out. "You're a socialite. I'm not."
Dismissing her cynicism with a careless wave of her hand, Makoto walked out of the room with Junji trotting after her. Both her and Fuyumi watched after her and only until she was gone did the latter speak up gently.
"I'm sure you'll be fine." Fuyumi's cool hand felt nice against her back and eased some of the strain on her muscles that had been wound ever since the night before. "You've pulled through tougher situations. This will be a walk in the park compared to them, I'm sure of it."
Knowing exactly how meaningful those words were coming from Fuyumi made a small and genuine smile come to her lips. "Thank you. Though that certainly makes one of us."
"Make that two!" Makoto walked back in with her enthusiasm invigorated as she carried in three glasses in hand and passed one to Fuyumi and Miryoku each.
"Thank you," Fuyumi said.
"Soda?" Miryoku sniffed it a couple of times before her eyes widened in shock. "How in the hell did you find my vodka!?"
"Nevermind that!" Makoto cheerfully called, holding onto her own glass with glee. "Special vodka is for special occasions! You just moved into a new city, got a new lease on life, and despite the minor setback with work, your life couldn't be better!" Glancing over to her, Makoto smiled at Miryoku's apathetic expression. "Am I wrong?"
Holding eye contact for a moment longer made Miryoku scoff and smirk in the end. "No, you're not."
"In that case, these are times to celebrate! For a new and better life to Miryoku! May all your past efforts and courage bring happiness and joy in the future!"
Unable to be discouraged with such words, Miryoku simply glanced over at a smiling Fuyumi before both raised their glasses to clink them together against Makoto's.
"Cheers!"
Miryoku found herself alone with Junji a few hours later after Makoto and Fuyumi left home and left her to her work. Now the early hours of the morning, she stretched against the back of her chair as she smiled at having done a good portion of her paperwork. The moment she caught sight of the clock that read 3am though, all that elation vanished and she groaned. Only three hours left for some rest.
Tomorrow would be hell.
Once she shut her desktop off, Miryoku tiredly made her way to her bed and sat on the edge as Junji, after having heard the ruckus of her getting ready for bed, climbed onto his side of the bed, curling in and lying down. Miryoku took off her glasses and set them aside while her other hand instinctively reached for a medicine bottle which deftly took a pill. Without a problem, she swallowed it down with just a bit of water despite its size. Done for the night, she settled on the space Junji left for her and stared at her ceiling in the darkness for a moment as her mind wandered the few things that had happened in just a few days. Moving to Kyushu, encountering the same hero she wrote about back in highschool, finding she had to attend the Billboards and gala for the first time—goodness, this week would be hell to get through. But upon remembering Fuyumi's words, she found a warmth pooling at her chest that helped her find solace and sleep.
But I'll get through it, for sure. One step at a time.
A/N:
*Sighs lovingly* You guys are amazing I honestly didn't expect so many to look forward to this story both here and on AO3 and it was an amazing surprise. I didn't know if a story geared more towards the pro heroes and a nobody OC that wasn't a hero would be that interesting which is why i mostly wrote oneshots. But after that first chapter and so much encouragement from friends, I can say that I'm glad I posted it.
This chapter was mostly expo as you saw. A little bit of some side characters that were filler and some canon that won't be. It's to lay down the grounds that we'll be threading as the story goes on. Honestly, it may all look inconsequential but a lot of things postulated here will be brought up later so look out! :)
This took so long but I swear that it could've taken so much longer if I hadn't started writing little bits during the weekday. I was cutting into my study time and thought I'd effed up when I saw the test was hard af but got proven wrong when I passed. So yay for the right amounts of procrastination! I swear that nowadays when I don't have free time, I want to write and when I have free time, I want to sleep. I need to get my priorities straight (-w-
Thank you so much to those people who've followed and favorited this story with it only having one chapter! A big ole thank you to Twilight Dark Angel, Ranger Snow 1, Oh my Batman is that Spitfire, Lthombom, Anseo, skycord1990, PrettyKitty, Celestial-Mainden703, Naruto02, Aviantei, LoloxBear, luckyhgirl, JuggernautJJ, bookdragonslayer, Shannyrox101, Azulish, Skylar Kitz and Rynxenvy.
And to those lovely people that reviewed: thank you so much. You have no idea how much the things you guys leave, may they be little or a lot, inspire me to write even more.
I hope you all are safe and sound, lovelies. For now, I shall leave you with this since it's 1am and I'm starting to lose my sanity from lack of sleep nowadays. So I hope you like this update. Next chapter will be a bit more preparing for the billboards and gala and then...the big event along with the reveal of Miryoku's Quirk. Hope to hear what you all thought of this chapter and that you stay tuned for the next chapter as well!
Love you all,
- Evie